


iscariot

by heartforhire



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Author Is Like Martha Dunstock: She's A Sucker For A Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author regrets nothing, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Sam Winchester, Child Neglect, Demisexual Castiel, Dimension Travel, FIX-IT FIC BECAUSE MY HEART DIES EVERY TIME, Fix-It of Sorts, Foreknowledge, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kinda Self Insert But Not Really Self Insert, Multi, Musical References, Pansexual Aromantic Character, Pansexual Gabriel, Things Get Way Worse Before They Get A Little Better, Truckloads of Angst, author regrets everything, but there's a happy ending, these tags are a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-15 23:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartforhire/pseuds/heartforhire
Summary: We are nothing more than we make of ourselves.





	1. Time's Up

**Author's Note:**

> I can't say I won't abandon this.
> 
> Please don't get too attached. This is for your own good.
> 
> -
> 
> Alternative Chapter Name: Caroline Makes An Entrance  
> Alternative Alternative Chapter Name: Caroline Hates Life and Life Hates Her Too

Sometimes, Caroline dreams that she's falling. She dreams that she's falling through darkness and she's screaming but no one can hear. She dreams of wind whistling past her ears as she drops farther and farther towards endless void, with nothing above her and nothing under her.

Only, those are just dreams.

Reality is a lot worse.

AA scream tears itself from Caroline's throat as she grasps futilely at air, wind whipping past her face and bringing burning tears into her eyes. She can't breathe, not with the way air's ripping itself out of her lungs. Her hair's getting in her open mouth and she screws her eyes shut against the air that's forcing tears in hot trails down her face. Fire licks along her skin, burning her arms and legs and especially her back. There's terror building in her chest and gripping her heart with a cold hand, and Caroline _falls_.

Only, since this is real and not just a nightmare, Caroline hits the ground, and she hits it hard.

The ground under her back gives away, and Caroline feels herself forcing her way through feet of packed dirt and gravel. The ground surrounding her gives way as well, crumbling into sloping walls around where she lays, dazed and panting, half curled into herself and clutching a throbbing right wrist to her chest.

The fire doesn't let her stay that way for long, eating away the blue material of her shirt (a shirt form a band she hasn't listened to since she was a teenager, what the fuck) and melting her purple rain jacket (also a relic from her teenage years, this was getting really weird). She starts screaming as the pain increases and the fire gets hotter, and she desperately wishes to wake up.

But she is awake, and she is burning.

She rolls around on the ground, trying to put out the growing blaze that claims more and more of her skin with every second. It's messy and she gets dirt in her mouth, but it works. It works, and that's all that matters for the moment.

Caroline tries to sit up but is stopped immediately by a surge of pain from her burned skin all over her abdomen and part of her back. More tears roll down her face, hot and wet. Caroline raises a hand to wipe them away, but that hand's burned too, apparently, and the other one hurts in a different way than the burns, a throbbing ache instead of a burning pain.

She has no idea where she is, what she's doing here, or why she was falling from the sky. Hell, she doesn't even know how she's still alive after that -- for all intents and purposes, she should be dead or paralyzed, not burned.

Caroline half-laughs to herself.

She doesn't know a single thing, might as well add 'where the fuck did blue fire come from' and 'why am I wearing a shirt I haven't worn since my teens' on the ever-growing list of questions she's forming.

She stares upwards for a bit, all grey, roiling thunderclouds and stark black trees against them. She detachedly hopes that it doesn't rain. Her hair hates her when it rains. The wind picks up a bit, blowing some of it into her face, and Caroline stares, wide-eyed, at the black streak in her bangs.

She hasn't had black streaks or bangs since middle school.

Her breathing picks up as she forces herself into a sitting position, burns be damned, and she stares at small hands with three leather strips woven into a yellow, blue, and pink bracelet and a silver ring on her left.

She had lost that ring when she was fifteen when Mark had stolen it from her and never given it back, no matter how many times she punched him in the face. And she broke that bracelet summer break before freshman year of high school and had spent a long time begging Milan for another one.

Her eyes widen.

Oh god, she's fourteen again, fourteen. Fourteen.

What-- how--

Her breathing speeds up even more, and she realizes she's hyperventilating in the back corner of her mind. Her burns send sharp pains with every breath she takes, sending more tears to already watery grey eyes. Oh god, fourteen, she can't do this again, no no no no nononononono--

She throws her head back and screams, screams at the grey sky and the trees, screams at the birds flying across her vision.

Nobody hears.

Caroline is on her own, in a body that isn't really her own anymore, in a crater she made, and she wants nothing more than to go home.

-

It's a while before Caroline can clamber out of the crater -- the walls are steep, she's burned everywhere useful, and her wrist is throbbing and swelling up. Caroline isn't exactly in a position to get out of a crater deeper than she's tall, but she has to.

She has to if she wants to stay alive.

Caroline stands shakily, looking around and cradling her right wrist to her chest. There's liquid oozing down where parts of her shirt are burned into her skin, but Caroline resolutely ignores that. The air is chilly, even though it's mid-July. Or, at least, it had been mid-July yesterday. Today plays by new rules, rules that include throwing people through the air, lighting them on fire, and de-aging them.

Caroline feels more than hears hysterical laughter force its way from her throat. Every movement irritates the injuries on her stomach and breaks the skin a little more, but she doesn't really care anymore.

There's a loud cawing from a crow seated on a pine tree a little to her right. Caroline looks at it for a bit, meets its beady black eyes. It stares at her for a little more before taking flight, quickly becoming a rapidly shrinking silhouette against the grey sky. Caroline watches it until it disappears from her sight before taking a breath and focusing.

She's somewhere she doesn't know. Alright. Does she have her phone on her?

Caroline pats down the pockets of her loose, dark purple jacket before checking her pants pockets. It doesn't take long to find the crushed remains of what had probably been her phone in some other lifetime, the glass for the shattered screen having curiously avoided slicing into her leg even after the rough landing. Caroline chalks it up to luck and good karma -- she deserves some after that bitch of a fall. Caroline, careful not to slice her fingers open on the shards of her phone, gathers up the remains of her phone and drops them unceremoniously on the ground beside her.

That's one lifeline cut, and Caroline ignores the sinking feeling that it might be the last one she has.

She looks around, seeing nothing but bare trees surrounding her, and resists the urge to laugh again. Stranded in the wilderness again, only this time, she doesn't have Milan at her back.

She forces the panic back down, locking it into a small, already-overstuffed box. She can deal with emotions after this is all over. But right now, survival is her top priority. She can have a mental breakdown later.

Caroline shivers inside her fleece jacket, looking around to see if there are any roads she could take to get back to town somewhere.

There aren't.

Caroline isn't surprised. The way her luck's been going, that seems more likely than being anywhere near civilization.

She looks around again before shrugging, ignoring the burst of pain accompanying the motion.

If there's no path, Caroline will make her own.

-

It's a long time of 'making her own path' before Caroline sees the top of a house, and by that time, she's sobbing again. There are blisters on her burn that have split open, and she's picked a few times at the shirt that seems to be completely stuck to the burned skin to no avail. She's fallen onto her injured wrist too many times to count. She's cold and she's dizzy, and there isn't a Milan by her side to help her through this.

Caroline stumbles a little further forward, squinting at what she desperately hopes is a house of some sort with someone that isn't going to rape or kill her. Looking at her state right now, it wouldn't be hard.

Caroline swallows hard.

What choice does she have?

The once-adult-now-teenager sets off towards the house, which she can now see is a cottage of sorts. She decidedly refuses to let her mind dwell on the possibility that she just might be injured even further if she enters the house. It's her best option right now, and there really isn't a choice in this.

Caroline stumbles over a root that's a little too high and comes crashing down again for what has to be the thirteenth time in a couple hours. A bolt of pain shoots through her wrist as she struggles back up, burns leaking more liquid down her stomach. She dashes her tears on her jacket -- her face is freezing enough already without the aid of water.

She just has to make it to the cottage.

-

She barely makes it to the cottage.

Her vision is swimming, the ground spinning under her feet. Caroline raises a hand to bang against the door, but it just impacts it weakly before sliding down. She tries a couple more times before reaching for the brass door knocker and almost crying at the pain it brings her.

Still, she can hear the sound of people coming down stairs, and she hopes to whoever might be listening that she can be forgiven, just this once, for ruining someone's night.

The white, wooden door swings open, revealing a nice-looking person in a red jacket. Caroline can pinpoint the exact moment they see her, because their eyes widen and an expression of worried shock appears on their face. She's instantly swept into a bridal carry and laid on a soft surface, which she would appreciate more if the sudden movements didn't break open the skin of her stomach. She cries out in pain and the person carrying her swears softly before they yell, "Carrie, we have a problem! Get the first aid kit!"

After they notify whoever Carrie is, the person looks down at Caroline with soft eyes lined in black. They're pretty blue-grey eyes, Caroline thinks dazedly. Very pretty. The eyeliner is done very well too, and Caroline finds herself vaguely envious of the skill.

"Hey, hey, stay with me. What happened to you?" Caroline just groans in response. Pretty-Eyes gives her a soft smile before running a calloused hand over her forehead.

"I'm Azra," they say. "What's your name?"

At this point, whoever Carrie is comes down stairs with a white box in hand.

"Azzy, what's-- oh."

Carrie rushes over to Caroline's side, kneeling quickly and opening the box. Caroline decides that Carrie is very pretty as well. They've got the motherly look that Milan always gave her whenever Caroline would crash at her house after an argument with her father, and their blonde hair is done up in an elegant knot on the top of her hair.

"I'm Caroline," she says fuzzily. Her tongue is thick and heavy in her mouth, and she can feel her eyes starting to close. Azra laughs slightly, but it sounds strained.

"Nice to meet you, Caroline. Did you know that's Carrie's name too? She's not very fond of it, though."

Carrie shoots Azra a slightly annoyed glance.

"Go call 9-1-1. These are second-degree burns with some third-degree in there." Caroline tenses a little, and she can hear Azra swear under their breath behind her.

Second- and third-degree? Shit.

She's had to do research for her stories, and she knows that those degrees meant a lot of dangerous things.

The not-quite-teen closes her eyes and releases a low moan through her teeth. In the background, she can hear Azra requesting an ambulance.

"Hey Caroline," Carrie says, voice low and soothing. "I'm just going to put a cloth with some cold water on the worst of the burns, alright? I need you to relax for me."

Caroline makes some sort of noise, she doesn't really know what it is, in acknowledgement. Carrie seems to take that as a go ahead, and Caroline hisses at the first touch of damp fibers to her burns.

"Shh, calm down, you're alright, we've got you," Carrie says, and Azra is back, stroking one hand through Caroline's black-streaked, fourteen-year-old bangs. Caroline hums a little at the touch.

"Ambulance will be here in the next twenty minutes. Think you can hold out that long for us, sweetheart?" Caroline nods feebly and Azra strokes through her hair again.

"What happened, sweetheart?" Azra's voice is low and sweet, and Caroline sighs instead of answering. Azra stops petting her hair and asks again.

"Caroline, what happened?"

Caroline cracks open an eye to stare up at Azra, looking them in the pretty blue eyes.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I hate fire." Caroline's throat is scratchy and raw, making Azra frown and get to their feet.

"I'll get the water," they call over their shoulder as Carrie takes off the cloth and replaces it with a new one. Carrie nods at them, swinging back into Caroline's sight.

"You got anyone you want to call?" Carrie asks, voice calm. Caroline thinks -- at this age, her father doesn't hate her, her family is still whole, and she's safely in the closet. Still...

Yesterday's rules aren't the same ones as today. For all she knows, her parents are dead.

"What's the date?" she asks instead of a reply, ignoring the burn it causes. Azra is next to her as soon as she completes the sentence, a tall glass of water in their hand. Caroline sips from it gratefully, savoring the cool slide down her parched throat.

"Thank you," she says. Azra just pats her on the head before going back to stroking her hair.

"It's the third of November," Carrie says, and Caroline shuts her eyes. Damn everything to hell.

"Year?" she asks, fully knowing how she sounds. Azra and Carrie share a look over her head before Azra responds slowly.

"1993. Sweetheart, do you have a concussion?" Caroline blinks.

That might be a good idea -- fake a concussion and/or amnesia to find out what exactly she's doing here and then leg it.

"I-- uh-- maybe? How would I know?" Caroline asks. Azra hums before speaking.

"Carrie, I'm trusting you to tell me if I'm missing things." Carrie makes an affirmative noise as she pulls off the cloth on Caroline's stomach, laying another, colder one on. Seriously, where is she getting these? Azra's right next to her, and it's not like there's an unlimited supply just forming by Carrie's side.

"Do you have a headache?" Azra asks. Caroline almost rolls her eyes. Obviously.

"Yeah," she mumbles. "Whattabouttit?"

She makes sure to slur her speech a bit, closing her eyes again. She knows some signs of concussions, and that's one of them. Azra pauses, exchanging a significant look with Carrie before continuing.

"Any nausea?" Azra continues. Caroline nods, then raises her left hand to her temple.

"Yeah, a lot."

Azra shoots Carrie another look.

"When you were coming here, did you trip a lot?"

Caroline nods. She's not even faking most of her answers. Wow, okay, maybe she does have a concussion. Wonderful.

"And do you have any blurriness of your vision?" Azra presses. "C'mon sweetheart, this is the last one."

Caroline hums an affirmative. Okay, the evidence is stacking up in favor of concussion. Just perfect.

Azra breathes out in a low sigh that smells like mint and lemons. Carrie pulls off the cloth and pats the burns dry, easing little hisses from Caroline.

"Shh," Azra soothes. "It'll all be over soon. The ambulance is coming."

Carrie leans into Caroline's vision to smile at her. "Yeah, don't worry."

Caroline groans and sinks further into the cushions. Maybe she can just have a quick nap here, just for a bit...

Her eyes slip closed, and her world is darkness.


	2. Truth Comes From Many Places

Caroline wakes strapped down with tear tracks dried on her skin and too much noise in her head.

She gasps for air, stomach heaving, straining against leather cuffs. The heart monitor beside her bed is beeping faster than she thinks her heart can go, she can't draw in enough oxygen fast enough, and she's strapped down restrained _helpless_ \--

The doors to her room burst open just when she starts screaming, high and shrill. She's thrashing and her wrist throbs against the restraints and she can feel her skin tearing where it's tentatively closed. She's surrounded by men and women in white coats with bright lights and clipboards and questions and she just wants to go home--

She overloads.

The world goes black.

-

When Caroline wakes up in a hospital for the second time, she is calmer.

Her entire abdomen is numb and her wrist is immobilized, and her face stings with the familiar feeling of antiseptic cream. She keeps her breaths calm and even.

Looking around, she sees a calendar hung on the wall. The only problem is that at fourteen, she doesn't have glasses or contacts and she's nearsighted, so looking at the calendar is out. Caroline takes a breath in before relaxing against the hospital bed, limbs loose and relaxed.

Just as she does that, a nurse wheels a tray into her room. Caroline gives them a vacant smile.

"Hi," she says. "I'm Caroline."

The nurse looks up at her, sees her eyes are open, and hurries out of the room. 

Rude.

Caroline watches them go before turning her eyes to the restraints holding her to the hospital bed.

There are soft, white cuffs around her wrists and ankles. She's dressed in a loose white hospital shift, which makes a corner of her lip quirk up. It's been a long time since she last wore one. A shame she has to break her streak.

Looking around, Caroline finds her bracelet, jeans and jacket folded neatly on a counter. She almost gets up before remembering that she is restrained and that moving isn't really advisable in her current condition.

The door swings open, drawing Caroline's attention. There's a bland smile coming up immediately, easy from years of practice. It doesn't falter when a doctor in a white coat walks through the door accompanied by the nurse from before, a bland smile matching the one on Caroline's face. They're pretty, Caroline muses absently. A shame she's only fourteen right now. She would've loved to flirt the hell out of them.

"Hi," Caroline greets. "I'm kind of uncomfortable, can you uncuff me please?"

The doctor laughs, already moving to Caroline's bedside. The nurse moves to her other side, undoing the restraints around her left foot.

"Caroline, is it?" the doctor asks, turning Caroline's attention back to them. "I'm Doctor Smith. Do you know where you are?"

Caroline can't stop the "not Kansas, that's for sure" that spills out at that question or the half-smile that pulls the corners of her lips up. The doctor blinks at her in confusion before turning her focus to the restraint on Caroline's wrist. Caroline almost sighs.

"It's a reference to The Wizard of Oz," she explains, a little confused, because she's ninety percent sure that The Wizard of Oz existed in 1993 and it's famous enough that people can understand references to it.

It looks like there's someone less inclined to pop culture references than she is.

"Oh, right. My daughter loves the movie," Doctor Smith says, watching as Caroline straightens with the removal of all her restraints. "But do you know where you are?"

Caroline shakes her head slowly.

"I was hoping someone would tell me," she says wryly, a little smile curving her lips. "I have to admit, I'm rather disoriented."

The doctor frowns, and Caroline shifts a little, uncomfortable.

"You're in Cherry County Hospital," she says, and wow, that is supremely unhelpful. Caroline briefly debates the pros and cons of asking the state, but before she can properly decide, her mouth makes the choice for her.

"If you wouldn't mind, the city and state, please?" She's eighty percent sure she's still in America -- the people here have all spoken English, as far as she's aware. The doctor frowns. Caroline mentally winces.

Bad idea.

"You're in Valentine, Nebraska."

Okay, damn. Nowhere near Washington. A little of Caroline's sudden surge of 'oh shit' must show on her face, because Smith's frown deepens.

"Where did you think you were?"

Caroline manages a tight, strained smile, brain working fast to think of a plausible answer that had nothing of what actually happened to her. Luckily, she's always been a good liar.

"I thought I was still in South Dakota," she says with a grimace. "My uncle was taking me hiking, but I lost him pretty fast. Then I blacked out and woke up with... whatever this is."

Caroline waves a hand at herself where she knows her skin is a patchwork of burns. Smith's eyes follow, expression turning pinched.

"Then, after I woke up, I started walking to wherever someone could help me. Then I blacked out again and woke up here," Caroline finishes, shrugging. "That's about everything I know."

Smith sighs, running their hand through long, black hair. A diamond ring glints on their finger, and Caroline sighs. Not only is she fourteen, Smith is married, too. Just her luck.

"Well," Smith starts. "Do you know your uncle's phone number, or his address, or...?" They trail off, eyes hopeful. Caroline is almost sorry to disappoint.

"No, sorry. He breaks his phone a lot and he hasn't gotten a new one for a few months now, and we were at some hotel that I don't remember." She offers an apologetic smile. "His name is Jonathan Holmes, by the way."

Of course, she doesn't know anyone by that name, but better for the pretense. Smith sighs before nodding, one hand reaching for their pearl necklace.

"I'll tell you if someone by that name comes looking for you," Smith says, expression sympathetic. Caroline nods. No one will, but hopefully, she should be able to get out of here before anyone actually calls her bluff.

Shouting comes from a room down the hall. Caroline spares the wall a brief glance, raising one eyebrow when Smith hesitates.

"That sounds important," she says. "You should probably go." She smiles. "Don't worry, I'll wait."

Smith needs no more encouragement. They take off, lab coat flapping out behind them. Caroline watches them go before lifting her shirt to look at the burns on her stomach.

Oh. Wow. That's... worse than she expected.

She was able to walk like this how?

Caroline releases a long exhale through her nose as she drops the fabric, left hand coming up to rub at the bridge of her nose.

Great. She isn't getting out of here as soon as she wants.

Something white flashes past the open door.

Caroline blinks, leaning forward, but it's gone. Her eyes narrow. There's no way that thing is human, seeing how fast it moved.

More doctors and nurses start running past her door, the same direction the white thing had gone. Caroline's eyes widen incrementally. The white thing had done something to make it worse, then.

There's another flash of white past her room.

Caroline almost rolls out of the bed, but she remembers the burns and stops. She isn't ready to split her skin open again. One two-hour session was more than enough.

Luckily -- or unluckily, depending on who's viewing it -- Caroline doesn't need to leave her room, because the white thing comes back. Caroline muffles a scream because that's vaguely human in the worst way. Some vague memory in the back of her head is screaming to make itself heard, but her brain is currently ringing with alarms of all sorts, and it can't be heard.

The thing blinks before its form shifts, becoming a redhead with green-yellow eyes and glasses. Caroline's nerves settle a bit at this new appearance, but something else is screaming a litany of _not human, not human, not human_ in her brain. The thing looks at her, narrows its eyes, and adjusts its glasses.

"You aren't supposed to be here."

Caroline blinks because apparently, it can speak English. The thing sighs, adjusting its glasses before crossing its arms.

"You aren't meant to be here. You reek of alternate dimensions," it explains. Caroline's eyes widen just as the memory begging for someone to hear it asserts itself in her head.

"Reaper," she breathes, and the thing -- Reaper -- nods.

_"You,"_ it stresses, tilting its head in her direction. "should not be here. Go back to wherever you came."

The Reaper seems to wince, gripping its head and screwing its eyes shut. Its form flickers briefly, and Caroline can almost taste dirt and rot on her tongue. She gags. The Reaper yells, _**"GO!"**_ loud enough to make Caroline clap her hands over her ears and close her eyes.

When she looks up, the Reaper is gone.

Caroline releases a shaky breath.

She needs to get out of here because apparently, she's in Supernatural and there are Reapers who think she shouldn't be here.

_Fuck my life._


	3. Chapter 3

It takes some doing, but Caroline manages to change into her old clothes and zip up the remains of her purple jacket before slipping out to the restrooms. From there, she follows the signs to leave the hospital. It's surprisingly easy. No one stops her as she hurries along white corridors and past doctors.

She knows that she's probably ripping her skin open but right now, all she can feel is numbness and she has an order from a Reaper to get the hell out of there, so she grits her teeth and ignores the logical part of her brain that's telling her to get the hell back to her hospital bed. She brushes a strand of strawberry blonde hair from her eyes, silently thankful that she still _has_ hair after the fire had taken so much.

Caroline gets a few weird looks as she walks down the street, but she ignores them. She needs to get away from here somehow, because she doubts that Valentine, Nebraska is where some sort of portal out of Supernatural would be located. If anything, she should be heading to Sioux Falls, see if there was anything Bobby could tell her about her situation.

Of course, there's no way she could even leave the state if she looks like she's just been lit on fire.

A corner of her mouth tugs downward and she stares down at the pavement passing under her feet. Somehow, she needs to change her clothes from the shirt and jacket she's wearing right now.

Caroline casts a speculative look at a nearby clothing store. Is she ready to test security in the 90s? She frowns, returning her gaze to the ground. No, if she gets caught, there are consequences, and she doubts she could really withstand legal scrutiny.

Crap.

She looks up, frowning a little as she tries to think of a way to get out of here.

Buses are out because of the entire I-look-like-I-climbed-out-of-a-burning-building thing and the fact that she has no money, and her burns make hiking out of here not an option. Hitchhiking doesn't seem like a viable option -- if whoever picks her up turns out to be a creepy pervert, she has no way of defending herself without making her injuries worse.

That's when she sees someone familiar.

Caroline's eyes go wide.

Ellen Harvelle? 

Her eyes narrow. That doesn't look exactly like the Ellen Harvelle from Supernatural -- she's missing some wrinkles and lines in her face, and her entire posture seems a little different, but that's definitely her, just... younger.

Caroline almost hits herself. Of course, the year is 1993. The show starts in 2005 or something, as far as she can recall. It's twelve years before the start of the show, of _course_ Ellen would look younger.

The teen only needs to think about her course of action for a second before she's running across the road, dodging around cars and hoping to whoever might be listening that she doesn't break herself into pieces while doing this. She catches the blonde woman by before she goes too far, grip tight around her wrist. Ellen spins around, features shifting into something dangerous but quickly shifting back into confused when she sees it's just a young girl holding her back.

"Ellen Harvelle?" Caroline asks quickly as the hunter's eyes rove over her, taking in the sorry state of her jacket and the careful way Caroline holds herself. The hunter turns her eyes to Caroline's after a couple seconds.

"Yeah. Who are you?"

Caroline swallows, releasing Ellen's wrist and sticking her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

"Someone who needs your help."

-

Caroline slides into a booth opposite Ellen at a diner, hands deep in her pockets. Her stomach and back are starting to hurt a bit, and Caroline bites her cheek at the thought of being hit full force with her burns.

She has never had much of a pain tolerance. That's likely going to change, seeing as she's a female in Supernatural.

"Kid." Ellen's voice has Caroline's grey eyes snapping to the hunter, hunching a little in on herself. The hunter is watching her intently, gaze pinning her down. "Who are you and how did you know my name?"

Caroline gives a tight smile, pulling her hands from her pockets to play with the bracelet around her wrist.

"I've heard of you. You helped my dad on a job a while back. A ghost," she starts, fervently hoping that Ellen is one of those people who has a crap memory. Caroline would really rather not be labelled a threat by the one person who might be persuaded to help her. The blonde hunter just waits, no change in her expression, making Caroline swallow and continue. "I woke up in a hospital with burns all over and a sprained wrist."

When Ellen's expression doesn't change, Caroline narrows her eyes.

"Yesterday, I was in _Washington_."

Apparently, that gets through to the hunter, because she sighs and leans back into the seat.

"You said you were burned."

Caroline winces, expression turning sour.

"Yeah," she responds. "They were hurting like a bitch before the hospital put something on them to make them numb."

She's probably going to need to get some of that. She can't have pain being her one constant right now.

Ellen sighs again, rubbing her forehead.

"I'm working a case. I can get you some cream and then a ride home after that, but not right now. You know your dad's number?"

Caroline frowns.

"He broke his phone last week and he hasn't gotten a new one," she answers. It's not really _that_ much of a lie. Her father does have a habit of breaking his phone, only he always has three others that he keeps with him so he's never unable to contact someone.

"Shit. Any other adults?" Ellen looks at Caroline, really looks, and the girl can't help shifting a little in her seat as she shakes her head. "Well, fine. You can stay with me for a while."

Caroline smiles gratefully.

"Thank you, Ms. Harvelle," she says quietly. "I appreciate it."

A waitress comes over, bright smile on their face. It dims a little when she sees Caroline, but they quickly recover. Caroline can't help the small downward tilt of her lips at that.

"Hi, I'm Emmeline, your server today! Can I get you anything?"

Ellen smiles at her, a little strained. Caroline looks at the waitress, expression blank before she smiles brightly. It feels wrong and foreign on her face, but she ignores that.

"I'm not that hungry," she says. "But maybe my mother is."

She smiles, turning an expectant look at Ellen. The blonde woman raises an eyebrow.

"You haven't eaten enough, Caroline. She's having a short stack of pancakes, and I'm having waffles with coffee."

Ellen meets Caroline's gaze steadily, challenge reading in her face. Caroline sighs before looking at Emmeline again.

"Maple syrup, if you have any," she adds, because making the best of a bad situation is what Milan always tells her to do. Ellen's smiling approvingly when Caroline looks back at her.

"Alright then," the waitress says, tucking the notepad into a pocket of her dress and walking away. Caroline breathes out a sigh of relief before looking at Ellen.

"You said you were working a job?"

Ellen nods.

"Yeah. What, you think you know something?" she asks, surprisingly serious. Caroline almost smiles. It must be something about hunting that makes younger witnesses just as important as adults.

And she _is_ a witness, she realizes as her eyes go wide, remembering the Reaper in her hospital room.

Now that she actually thinks about the encounter...

The Reaper had been acting almost pained. Their movements were almost jerky, strained, and those last few moments, when they gripped their head and yelled for her to leave? That didn't seem to be normal Reaper behavior.

"...would this job have any connection to Reapers?" she asks, and keeps her eyes firmly on the table when Ellen's eyes drilling through her skull.

"Maybe," is the reply, and Caroline sighs.

"There was a Reaper in my hospital room. They were moving really weirdly, almost like they were being pulled around. After a couple seconds, they grabbed at their head and started screaming for me to leave before they vanished."

Caroline shrugs, carefully not looking up.

"That might have some bearing on your case," she says.

A plate of pancakes gets set down in front of her and she smiles thankfully up at the server before looking at Ellen.

The blonde hunter is laser-focused on her, lips pressed into a hard line. Caroline immediately looks down. A look like that is always the precursor to trouble, and Caroline has too many injuries to escape from a hunter.

"Being pulled around, you said?" Ellen asks. Caroline nods, picking up her fork and slicing through part of the pancake.

"Yeah, it was like they weren't supposed to be in my room and something was tugging them out."

Ellen frowns, and Caroline decides to ask a few questions of her own.

"You think the Reaper might've been controlled?"

That earns her a sharp look from Ellen. Caroline dips her piece of pancake into the maple syrup, swirling it around as she waits for Ellen to respond.

"Maybe. The way you described sounds more like compulsion than control, though. If the Reaper was being controlled, it wouldn't be able to resist its commands log enough to talk to you."

A plate of waffles is set down before Ellen, eliciting an absent nod of thanks.

"Or it could just be a weak witch," Caroline suggests, taking a bite of her pancake. "Reapers _are_ pretty powerful, right?"

Ellen nods, picking up her silverware.

"That's a possibility."

Caroline swallows another bite of pancake, frowning thoughtfully.

"If someone is controlling Reapers, then they're using it to bring someone back to life or just kill them, right?" She takes another bite of her pancakes. "Was there anything in the papers like that?"

Ellen looks at her, and her expression says that she doesn't know who she sees. It's gone in an instant, and Ellen is nodding and drinking from her coffee cup. Caroline shifts in her seat, suddenly more on edge than before.

"Finish up," Ellen orders. "We're heading to the library."

-

Ellen makes Caroline take off her jacket and replaces it with her own in the restroom of the diner, saying that the purple would draw too much attention. Caroline fills in the blanks with "and it looks like shit", pulling the black material around herself. Ellen's mouth goes flat when she sees the tattered state of her shirt before she turns away and tells her to zip up the jacket.

Ellen isn't a big person, but her jacket is too long for 14-year-old Caroline's hands. And her torso. And her everything. Caroline pushes the sleeves up a bit, a disgruntled frown on her face. Dammit, she can't wait until she hits that growth spurt.

As they leave the diner, Caroline catches Ellen staring contemplatively down at the purple fabric bunched in her hands and a slight trickle of fear slips down her spine. She doesn't know why, but her instincts have never been wrong, and Ellen is a hunter. There is good reason for fear hiding a secret like she is in this company.

"The library's not that far of a walk from here," Ellen says, turning to look at Caroline. The strawberry blonde girl shrugs, looking up at the sky. Her back is lighting with pain again, but she doesn't want to reveal the full extent of her burns to the hunter. That will bring up questions she doesn't want to answer and lying only goes so far.

"Newspapers, right?" she asks, turning her head slightly to look at the hunter without taking her eyes off the cloudy sky. A cold breeze blows her curls from her face.

"Yeah. You know what we're looking for."

Caroline hums in response, turning her face back to the weak sun peeking through thin, grey clouds.

 

It's only around ten minutes before they reach the library, Caroline notes in mild surprise. Her back is throbbing, but at least she hasn't burned away so much skin that she's destroyed her nerve endings. That's probably the only upside to that. Even the feeling of her clothing against the damaged skin is painful.

She's hiding this from Ellen _why_?

Right, because hunters might take "I got these while falling from the sky" as evidence that she's not human and therefore needs to be hunted and she isn't as good at lying as she wants to be.

"This is the library?" Caroline asks rather unnecessarily, considering that there's a sign by the door that answers that question in big, bright, overly happy letters. Ellen doesn't respond, holding the door open for the teen to pass through.

"Fair enough," she mutters under her breath as she walks past Ellen. She's rewarded with a twitch of the woman's lips as she falls in behind the teen, letting the door swing shut behind them.

"Did you remember your library card?" Caroline asks, raising an eyebrow. Ellen snorts.

"What do you think I am, an amateur?" she asks, but there's amusement under her words. "You?"

Caroline smiles, holding up a wallet she had plucked off a passerby.

"Let's see."

As it turns out, there is a library card in there. Luckily, there's no picture ID on it, seeing as the owner of the wallet is one Robert Mills, a greying man with a beard. Caroline highly doubts she could pull that off without the help of a certain witch who deals in years, but she keeps the remark to herself as she strolls to one of the computers. Ellen cuts her off before she can get there, pointing towards the paper records with a raised eyebrow. Caroline rolls her eyes but complies, falling into 'rebellious teenager' mode easily. Ellen's coat is far too warm, but the shirt under it is still in tatters, so she can't take it off as she pages through newspapers.

"Hey, Mom," Caroline says, and the title is almost bitter on her tongue. "Over here."

Ellen looks up from the computer, glancing back at Caroline. The strawberry blonde raises an eyebrow and a newspaper. The hunter sighs and walks over, and Caroline wastes no time pointing out the article that had caught her eye.

"He has stage four lung cancer. Then he wakes up one day and it's all gone," Caroline says quietly. "That doesn't sound very natural to me."

Ellen frowns.

"One revival doesn't match four deaths," she responds. Caroline bites her lip.

"I'll keep looking," she promises quietly and turns back to her work. Ellen doesn't go back to her computer, instead gently pulling the newspaper from between her fingers. Caroline lets it happen, looking at the woman from the corner of her eye.

"There's got to be a link between these resurrections, right?" Ellen says, scanning the article. Caroline nods.

"Right here. Richard Groves. See if there's been anyone related to him that's suddenly come back."

Caroline meets Ellen's eyes and smiles a little.

"Of course."

 

It's another hour before she finds the clippings she's looking for, and she quickly copies the names down into a journal in Ellen's bag. Ellen grabs her shoulder and pulls her from her seat when she's done. Caroline goes with her, hiding her grimace as her skin tugs against her burns.

"You're coming back to the motel with me," Ellen says briskly. Caroline's eyebrows shoot up, but she nods after a couple seconds. No use turning down help when it's offered. She curls her fingers tighter around the spiral-bound notebook in her hands, eyes darting toward the teenage librarian.

"I just want to double check something. Wait for me?" she asks as if she isn't the one holding the information in her hands. She isn't ready to risk losing the only help she can get.

Ellen sighs and lets go of her shoulder.

"Go," she says, resigned. Caroline gives her a half-smile before she's walking over to the librarian at the desk.

"Hi," she says, voice bright. The librarian looks up, and Caroline notes the multiple, mostly green ribbons that they're wearing around their wrists. An interesting fashion statement, she decides after a couple second of looking at them.

"Can I help you?" the librarian asks, voice perfectly mild. Caroline smiles wider. It feels wrong on her face, but she doesn't drop it. She can't drop it, not here, not now.

"I found a library card on the floor, and I just wanted to return it." She makes a show of reaching through her pockets, turning the ones in the jacket inside out before reaching for her jeans pockets. While she's doing that, she sneaks a look over the desk at the book resting on top of the librarian's keyboard. It's bound in dark leather and looks like it has a diagram of some sort of Celtic rune on it.

Unfortunately, since she's fourteen and short, she doesn't manage to pull it off as fluidly as she'd like. The librarian shifts just a little, covering the book with an arm. Caroline holds back a flood of curses, instead finally pulling out the library card with a friendly smile. The librarian takes it with a scrutinizing look that's hidden away almost immediately behind a smile that's almost as fake as their blonde hair.

"Anything else?" they ask, voice almost strained. Caroline's smile is starting to wear on her, so she decides to drop it in favor of a conspiratorial look and leans closer.

"Do you have any books on witchcraft?" She looks down a little obviously, scuffing her boot along the floor. "I kinda need them..."

The librarian shakes their head. 

"No, sorry. The one you should ask would be Killian Emeris if you want witchcraft. He gives out stuff like that." The librarian smiles. "He lives down by the college, if you want to drop by his house, but you didn't hear this from me."

They smile. Caroline leaves with a thank you and a backwards wave, returning to Ellen, who's waiting by the front door.

"Took you long enough," Ellen grumbles. "What was up with that?"

Caroline looks up at her, dropping the smile she's been wearing since she talked to the librarian.

"Librarian's suspicious. Didn't get their name, though. Also, Killian Emeris. Look into him."

Caroline looks back into the sky as they leave, the breeze noticeably colder. She holds out the notebook, waiting for Ellen to take it as she watches grey clouds move across the sky.

"I think I'm going to find somewhere to sit down, probably grab some painkillers off of someone." She closes her eyes briefly against a surge of cold November air. "I'll see you around, Ms. Harvelle."

She makes to walk off, but Ellen catches her by the arm and spins her around to face her. Caroline resigns herself to the feeling of her skin tearing again, moving with the pull to face the woman.

"I told you, you're coming back to the motel with me," she says, and Caroline's eyebrows shoot up.

"I'm going to need to find a place to sleep, Ms. Harvelle," the teen replies, tilting her head a bit. "Unless you're offering to let me stay with you, it would be best if I started looking sometime around now."

Caroline brushes a hand through her black-streaked bangs, suddenly reminded of everything that had happened today. One morning and part of an afternoon, she amends. Not even a full day. Exhaustion sets in, and a new layer of throbbing pain settles over Caroline like a blanket.

"Yeah, you can sleep in our room," Ellen says. Caroline's eyes snap to her. "You still have to help with research, though."

It's the only thing that she can do right now to pay them back, so Caroline agrees. Ellen smiles, and Caroline thinks that it changes her entire face into something more welcoming and open.

"Thank you," the strawberry blonde says.

"Of course. I'm not leaving a girl out here in the cold," Ellen responds. Caroline ducks her head a little as she smiles to herself. "'Sides, you're wearing my coat, and I'm not just going to let you take it."

Caroline laughs a little, tilting her head back to look at the sky again. Because of that, she only notices the car when she hears the rumble of an engine and an "Ellen!" shouted through a window. She looks down just in time to catch a driver's window rolling down as a car rolls up next to the pair.

"Ms. Harvelle?" she asks, even though she thinks she might know who this is. Ellen smiles again, that one that lights up her face, and waves at the driver as she speeds up a little.

"My husband, Bill. Come on," she says. Caroline speeds up to match the hunter's pace, wishing for her growth spurt in her head. Ellen pulls open the backseat door, and Caroline has just enough time to thank her before she's being guided through, a firm hand pushing her into the seat.

In the time it takes for Ellen to walk around the car and get in shotgun, Bill's met Caroline's eyes in the rearview mirror with a considering stare. A hunter's stare, just like the one Ellen first gave her when Caroline had grabbed her wrist on the street. Caroline locks her gaze with his, unwilling to look away.

Then Ellen slides to the car and Bill's attention is suddenly all focused on the blonde hunter.

"Heya, Ellen," he greets with a wide, bright smile on his face. Ellen immediately raises an eyebrow.

"What did you do?" she asks dryly. Bill just shrugs.

"Nothing compared to what you apparently did," he responds. "Who's our new stray?"

Caroline tamps down the sudden flare of irritation at the address. It's a test, a probe to see how she'll react, and she's not going to fuck it up.

"I'm Caroline," she says before Ellen has a chance to answer him. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Harvelle."

Her smile doesn't meet her eyes. Bill and Ellen exchange looks.

"Yeah, no, that's not going to cut it. You got picked up by _my wife_ , and she never does that, so there's something going on with you."

Ellen breathes out an exasperated _"Bill"_ , but doesn't interrupt. Caroline is on her own. The teen shrugs.

"I had some freaky stuff happen to me. Burns hurt, especially when you don't know when you got them or how, and I'm way too many states away from Washington to be alright."

Bill raises an eyebrow in the mirror.

"Burns." He sounds unimpressed and skeptical, ignoring the sharp look Ellen sends him.

Caroline's eyes narrow.

"You want to see?" She's already turning, fingers curling under the hem of her borrowed jacket and tattered t-shirt to show off her aching back. Judging by the twin intakes of breath, it's worse than it feels, and Caroline allows a grim smile to cross her features before dropping the clothing and turning back around.

"Yes," she says in the silence that follows. "Burns."

It isn't silent for long. It's only a couple seconds of stunned stillness before Ellen is twisting in her seat, looking Caroline in the eye.

"When we get back to the motel, you are resting. I'll get you some painkillers. Don't do anything that'll injure yourself further," Ellen commands, and a wistful feeling grabs Caroline before she shakes herself and nods.

"Of course," she says. But, of course, actually resting and not hurting herself sounds like more bother than it's worth, and Caroline isn't ready for that. Stillness has never been her style, and it isn't about to be because her ride told her to. She rests her forehead against the cool plane of glass making up the car window.

Still, let them believe she's fully intent on doing what Ellen says.

That will help in the long run.

If there _is_ a long run.

"Let's eat before going back to the motel. Food there is crap."

Caroline presses herself into the leather seats and closes her eyes. Maybe this might even be bearable. After all, this is only temporary until she can get out of here, and then out of this world.

She distantly hears Ellen's agreement, and then music starting in the background.

Only temporary, she reminds herself, and closes her eyes.


End file.
